


Figuring It Out

by Artemis_Egeria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Developing Relationship, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Vision's hand obsession, talking about sex, thinking about sex, very non explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-23 13:39:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14935313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Egeria/pseuds/Artemis_Egeria
Summary: She was torn between wanting to know what Vision thought of Stark’s remark—or if it even registered with him as intended—and wanting to go back to before the idea had ever been introduced.A look at the relationship between Vision and Wanda from the months after Age of Ultron to the beginning of Infinity War.





	1. Part 1

A rope of scarlet slammed the door shut behind her. Trust Stark to step all over something precious. She gave in to her urge to collapse onto her bed and beat her fists against her pillows. Not as satisfying as Stark’s face, but it would have to do. 

She had reined in her desire to hit Stark throughout dinner, but now she wished that she had not ignored him, consequences be damned. As her fury cooled, worry replaced it. She was torn between wanting to know what Vision thought of Stark’s remark—or if it even registered with him as intended—and wanting to go back to before the idea had ever been introduced.

A knock sounded at the door, and she was certain it was Vision. Speak of the wolf, or the devil, as the Americans say. “Come in.” He phased through the door, a look of concern clear on his face.

“Are you alright, Wanda? You left rather abruptly after dinner.”

“I’m fine. Just tired after training today.”

“Ah.” He sat on the edge of her bed, and she struggled not to blush. Her desire to pummel Stark returned. He had sat on her bed dozens of times. She knew better than anyone else that it was perfectly innocent. “Shall I tell the others that you won’t be joining us for the movie?”

“Yeah, Vizh.” She smiled, though she didn’t feel it. “Thanks.”

He stood and approached her door, but he paused and turned back to her. “Would you like company?”

“No, thanks, Vizh. I know you were looking forward to this one.” She was not opposed, but not after that night’s dinner.

“Good night, Wanda. Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

Once she was alone again, she fell back against her pillows and punch the mattress a few more times. She was angry not only with Stark, but also herself. She hadn’t even had the courage to test Vision’s reaction. Not that she had any idea how to ask in a way that would not inject more awkwardness if Vision had not fully grasped Stark’s quip. 

***

The next day Vision found Natasha sitting in the lounge. He sat down across from her, balancing his elbows on his knees.

“Hello, Natasha.”

“Hey, Vision.”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“As you know, there are many areas of the human experience in which I am not well versed. I often find the Internet of limited use in such situations.”

“Okay.” Her face remained impassive, but her eyebrow did quirk slightly.

“I believe this question is of a sensitive nature, so I am even less sure how to go forward.”

“I’ll do what I can to answer you, Vizh, but don’t you usually ask Wanda these sorts of things?”

“Yes.” He drew out the word as he had heard others do when uncertain. “This concerns Wanda. I was hoping she would not hear of this conversation.”

She smiled. “Well, I do know how to keep a secret.”

“That is why I thought you were the ideal candidate to ask.” She leaned forward and placed her chin in her hand, clearly growing tired of his preamble. “Mr. Stark said something last night that at first I did not think anything of, but seems more fraught with meaning than I originally thought. The subject of romantic relationships came up. He looked at Wanda and said, ‘Of course, being friends with benefits is the best of both worlds.’ He gave her what seemed to be a purposefully exaggerated wink, and I do not believe she appreciated the implication.”

Something flickered behind her eyes, but she had adopted the posture of an interrogator, and he could not interpret what she was thinking. “Right. So, what’s your question exactly?”

“I was simply trying to ascertain if there are social cues that I should be catching to avoid embarrassing missteps. It is my understanding that the phrase implies a casual sexual relationship between friends. I believe that these relationships are typically ‘open secrets’ among a friend group. I would not want to embarrass Wanda by commenting on behavior that was expected as part of that relationship.”

Truthfully, the thought of Wanda being in a physical relationship with anyone unsettled him in ways that he had spent hours considering the previous night. He still had not examined all the elements of his reaction to Mr. Stark’s remark and the responses from the team, which ranged from choked laughter from Sam to glares from Steve and Natasha. Steve had forced the conversation into other areas after that, but the mood had not been quite the same.

When Wanda left the table immediately after the meal was finished and he had followed her to ensure that she was okay, she seemed stiff and distant. He had accepted her explanation of tiredness, but he could not focus on the movie, despite its gorgeous cinematography that captured the grandeur of outer space and its strong emotional draw. Later that night, his most prominent thought upon researching Mr. Stark’s phrase was that such relationships typically seemed to grow more serious over time, based on the available data. Perhaps in time Wanda would no longer be interested in spending time with him in the privacy of her room. He feared that she would withdraw the affection and simple contact that had become integral parts of his days. He knew that he had no right to claim those gestures, but he did not know how he would prevent himself from expecting them or hide his disappointment if they were discontinued.

“Oh, I don’t think you need to be worried about that. I think it was Tony who misread a few things.” He would have to ponder what signs Mr. Stark could have misread, as Wanda was not generally demonstrative with her feelings in group settings.

“So, Wanda is not in such a relationship with anyone?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” She smiled minutely before placing a hand on his arm briefly in a gesture he believed was meant to be comforting and walking away. He trusted Natasha’s judgment in this matter. However, that did not fully explain Wanda’s reaction if there was no factual basis for Mr. Stark’s comment. Perhaps she found it objectionable that he was speculating on such an intimate piece of her life, given her lingering antipathy toward him. 

***

“Back so soon?”

“Nice to see you too, Nat.” Wanda cursed internally and paused in her walk down the hallway. 

“I’m just trained to see changes in behavior. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I just want to spend some time with my dear friends. Plus, I have to check on some things at the labs.”

“Fine. But if you’re going to be hanging around, lay off the kids.” Wanda knew she shouldn’t be eavesdropping. What was the point of forcing herself to stay out of her teammates’ minds, if she was just going to listen in on conversations that obviously weren’t meant for her? But she was curious.

“What ever do you mean, Nat?” The false innocence in his voice set her teeth on edge.

“I’m serious, Tony.” Wanda could imagine her glare. “Vision and Wanda are friends. They’re affectionate with each other. They hold hands, they sit close to each other. It’s sweet, and there’s no need to turn that into something it isn’t.”

“I made one joke. Besides, it looks like more than that to me. When they came to dinner holding hands, it looked like they couldn’t take their eyes off each other.”

“Maybe, down the line, but let them be. Wanda is just barely coming out of the worst of her grief for her brother, and Vision’s so new that he struggles to understand these things. Their comfort is more important than your amusement.”

“Maybe it’s just the little push they need in the right direction.”

“Give it a rest, Tony. They don’t need to be pushed anywhere. Vision already came up to me to ask if Wanda was in a relationship someone else on the team. He didn’t understand you meant him and Wanda. If none of that means anything to you, just think about whether you want to make me angry.”

“Understood. I’ll be on my best behavior. Promise.” He didn’t sound entirely sincere to Wanda, but Natasha seemed to accept his answer. 

“Good.” 

Wanda walked back down the hall the way she had come. She went into her room and sat on the bed, breathing more heavily than was warranted. As it tended to do, her mind turned to Pietro. It wasn’t fair that he was not here to listen in on the team with her or defend her from gossip. Or join in on the teasing at the right time.

And it wasn’t right that it was so much easier these days to get through an afternoon or a whole day without crying over his loss or thinking of something that she desperately wanted to tell him. She let the guilt roll over her. It wasn’t right that she should find comfort in routine and training and the friendship of the team. It wasn’t right that she could begin to imagine the years stretching ahead of her when her grief would diminish even more. 

And now when she thought of something she wanted to share or just needed a shoulder to lean against, she was starting to think of Vision almost as often as her brother. She had done everything in her power to avoid exploring what she was feeling for him. He was her friend. She may have a closer relationship with him than anyone else, but that didn’t have to mean anything other than friendship was going on. 

***

Vision was walking down the hall without any particular plan when he bumped against a shorter, slighter figure. “I apologize, Wanda. I was not paying attention.”

“Obviously.” She smiled up at him. “You’re usually so much more aware of your surroundings.”

“I was thinking. Again, I ap—”

“It’s okay, Vizh. I was teasing.” Teasing, yes, he still often failed to grasp the intricacies of inflection. The word “obviously” alone could indicate simple agreement, biting sarcasm, condescension, and many other things that he had not yet identified. But she was still smiling at him in a way that soothed the increased tension in his muscles. 

“Are you feeling better after last night?”

“Yeah, I’m okay now.”

“Sam was seeking assistance in cooking dinner later. Would you like to join me in volunteering?”

“Sure.”

“I will see you in the kitchen in an hour then.”

She turned to walk away, but on impulse he added, “I am certain that your aid will be appreciated. I always am gratified by your cooking skills, as well as your presence.” He immediately doubted the wisdom of his statements, but he was rewarded with an even bigger smile from her as she turned back toward him.

“Thanks. I always enjoy your presence as well.” For a reason he could not decipher, she blushed. “Well, see you in an hour.” She abruptly turned on her heel and walked away.

He was left feeling a bit confused. She seemed pleased, but he could not help but consider her departure “fleeing.” He’d seen the idea expressed in books and movies that women are mysterious creatures who act with no rationale, but he had never found that to be the case before. Natasha and Wanda’s behavior had always been perfectly explicable if one understood where they were coming from. 

Now all that remained was to determine the origin of Wanda’s ambiguous response. 

He resolved to investigate the matter further.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision and Wanda try to understand their feelings for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References: _Harry Potter_ series, _Pride and Prejudice_ , _Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World_

“My investigation has revealed that all varieties of love, at least in their purest forms, seem to require sacrifice. Is that correct?”

“I guess in a lot of cases. Sure.” He belatedly realized his mistake when the pain immediately flared in Wanda’s eyes. For him the subject of love and sacrifice was primarily an interesting topic for conversation, but for her it was the source of her greatest sorrow. He must remember that. He reached out and squeezed her hand in an attempt at apology and reassurance. 

“I understand if you do not want to discuss this subject.”

“I don’t mind. I know Pietro would hate it if any part of life was off limits for me because of him.”

He continued, “Do you think sacrifice is a necessary component of love or is only logically contingent?”

“Well, that’s a big question. It probably depends on how you define sacrifice. Most people are never called on to sacrifice in the grandest, most obvious ways. But in stories it’s an easy way to show the depth of feeling involved. I suppose the thinking goes that if someone is willing to give up their life or happiness for another, they must truly love the other person.”

He sighed. “Yes, I forget sometimes how different our lives are from that of the ordinary person. I just wish the boundaries were clearer.”

“That’s just not the case a lot of times.” She said it with a wistfulness that matched his feelings on the subject. “Especially when it comes to love.”

“I suppose that’s what make human behavior so difficult to understand sometimes.”

“What has you thinking about this?” In truth, he had come to the suspicion that his negative reaction to Wanda’s potential intimate relationship with someone else stemmed from his own desires to be closer to her. He was seeking to understand the contours of love to determine whether he could ever hope to grasp it. However, he decided that it was not the time to tell the full truth.

“I recently finished the _Harry Potter_ series. The books contain numerous examples of sacrificial love. James and Lily Potter gave their lives for their son. Ron Weasley let himself be captured and left for dead in wizard’s chess, so that his friends could move forward in their quest. Bartemius Crouch Jr.’s mother gave her life so that her son could have freedom.” There were many more, but most of them occurred after the fifth book, where Wanda had stopped reading when Harry’s nightmares and mental connection with Voldemort became too real for her.

Such scenarios were not applicable to him. He could not die under any known circumstances; however, he supposed that he could think about people for whom he would give his life it were possible. He most likely would sacrifice himself for any of his teammates, but if he had to choose one, he knew whom he would choose. The strength of his certainty surprised him. He had only known Wanda for six months. He should not be willing to sacrifice all other concerns for her, even in a hypothetical. It was not how any piece of him was designed. However, he knew that somehow the parts that had formed a new, separate entity would give everything for her.

“Hmm. I know that I would have given my life to save Pietro’s. I’ve never felt that way about anyone else.”

“Is it rare to feel that depth of love?” 

“Uh, I don’t really know. It’s not the kind of thing people usually talk about. And it’s one thing to say that you would give your life for someone and another to be in a situation where it might actually happen.”

“So, it’s not disqualifying to the experience of love not to be able to sacrifice one’s life?”

“I don’t think so. Love is so much more about living your life by someone’s side, enjoying spending time together, being there for them, doing little things for each other, caring that they’re happy.” 

“Define ‘little things,’ please.” He was fairly certain that she was not speaking literally.

She smiled, and he sensed that she was tamping down her amusement so as not to embarrass him. “I don’t know, Vizh. It’s different for every person and every relationship.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” While he continued to marvel at the many ways humans could be idiosyncratic, it did make everything more difficult.

“It’s just one of those things that’s not so clear cut.” He suppressed his desire to sigh. He would have to get used to that.

***

Over the past few months, Wanda had found herself concerned at how often Vision’s mind turned to affection, attachment, love. He considered everything that there was to know about humanity, but he was different when he asked about those things, more searching and intent.

He was zealous in choosing romantic comedies for movie nights or listening to romantic songs. He particularly enjoyed movies that purported to give rules for romance, despite her continued insistence that those movies were not realistic guides for real life. 

She enjoyed watching them for the most part, except when his stare at screen would grow uncomfortably intense and she could feel the strength of his inquiry, even when he was not looking at her. She was too nervous about examining her own feelings on the subject to ask what rules he had settled on at those times. However, the joy that washed over his face when he felt that he had realized a new piece of his framework more than made up for momentary discomfort.

***

Sometimes he was amazed at the passage of time. It had been a little over a year since his creation. Despite access to an atomic clock that was accurate down to the nanosecond, some days felt like they stretched for weeks. It was a subject that he had discussed with Wanda often, but she had never been able to offer a suitable explanation. 

Monitoring news reports did not alleviate the situation. If the mission in Lagos went well, it might not make local or international news, but that was precisely what he was trying to determine. He searched various outlets throughout the night and early morning. [1]

He was wandering aimlessly around the compound when he came across a breaking news alert. He went into the conference room and turned on the television, switching it to cable mode. Images of a scarlet ball of energy going into the side of a tall building filled the screen. He searched other channels and online news stories, but he could not find any pictures of the team, of Wanda.

Over the next few hours, there were interviews with eyewitnesses and various personal videos were uploaded to social media. He still could not find images of them. He had a new measure for how slowly time could seem to pass. A strange energy filled his limbs. He began to pace, although he was aware that such movement would not help him find them. 

The newscasters droned on about how this was one more unsettling example of the Avengers acting irresponsibly. They speculated on the source of the fireball and the new team member who could not control her powers. 

He finally caught sight of a video of the four of them standing next to a first response vehicle. They all seemed unharmed. He could not see Wanda’s face because she was looking down and away, arms wrapped around herself and fists clenched. 

He felt his shoulders relax and he moved to collapse into a chair. They were safe. She was safe. This entire day had him doubting the functionality of his nerves and muscles. He watched as the clean-up continued. After another hour or so, the worst was over, and the anchors turned to other stories.

They arrived back at the compound in the late afternoon. He was attempting to make dinner when they entered the common area. He realized that he had not considered how to greet them. _Good afternoon_ seemed inappropriate, given the circumstances. _Welcome back_ was not necessary because they had been gone fewer than twenty-four hours.

“Hello, everyone.” They merely nodded in acknowledgement and headed toward the residential areas. He wanted to talk to Wanda, but his cooking absorbed his attention. 

Sometime later everyone returned to the common area. He noted that Wanda’s hair was still damp and her face was free of her usual makeup. She looked haggard. The meal was largely silent, the only sounds the scraping of silverware over plates.

The others excused themselves, but Wanda remained at the table, playing with her food. He cleared the table and placed the dishes in the dishwasher. He never minded doing the cleaning up, but Wanda usually stood beside him and helped. It was one more opportunity to be alone with her and try to decipher the full range of what he was feeling. But now her silence began to seem oppressive.

Eventually, she carried her plate to the counter. He was dismayed to note that it was still mostly full. “Shall I put this in the refrigerator for you for later?”

“I guess.” Her voice held no inflection. It expressed none of her usual force and personality. He covered and refrigerated the plate. 

He tried to formulate what to say to her next. He wanted to ask her if she was all right, but she clearly was not, and he understood that the question was frowned upon in such cases. He wanted to tell her that it was not her fault, but he did not have all the variables to determine that. She may have saved a net number of lives, but seeing as each human life was unique, it was difficult to weigh their relative worth. He knew that there was no ill intent behind her actions, but she was one of the few team members who had the raw power to cause that kind of destruction.

He was utterly trapped in his suppositions. She was still standing at the counter, looking down and twirling one of her rings around her finger. He felt the need to say something. “Wanda, would you like to talk about the mission?”

She stiffened immediately. “No.”

“If you change your mind, I am here for you.”

She looked up at him, but her gaze and mind were closed to him. “Thank you.” She tucked her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt. Frowning deeply, she looked at him once more before saying, “I’m going to bed now.” 

“Good night. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

She smiled faintly and nodded. “Night.”

***

“Go away, Vision.” It was the third time in as many hours that he had knocked on her door. She felt bad for turning him away, but she could not handle his solicitous care right now. 

After darkness began to descend, another knock sounded at her door. It was much sharper than Vision’s usual gentle tap. “Wanda, I’m coming in.” She didn’t have the energy to argue, so she merely pulled the covers further up to her chin. 

Steve brought in a tray that held some toast, a protein bar, a cup of tea, and a water bottle. He sat down at the very foot of her bed and set the tray down next to him. “Wanda, I’ve been trying to give you space, but you haven’t been out of your room in three days and you haven’t eaten anything today. Punishing yourself won’t change what happened.”

“I’m not punishing myself. I’m just not hungry.” Her voice was hoarse from disuse, and she had trouble forcing the words out. 

“That’s why I brought the bare minimum.”

“I’ve gone longer without food before.”

Steve frowned. “But you don’t have to do that now. I remember the days when my mother couldn’t afford food for us for a day or two at a time. I know how your body is forced to get used to it, but I don’t want you to get used to that again. You need to keep up your strength so you can get back to training.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t train. Maybe my powers will always do more harm than good. Maybe you should just send me away.” Her voice was still weak, and despite herself she found the tea tempting. She sat up a bit and pulled the tray toward her. The tea was made exactly how she liked it. She let its warmth seep into her, loosening her throat.

“Look, Wanda, I know people died. I feel those deaths, too; I wish we could have prevented them. I don’t blame you for feeling partly responsible, but the fate of the mission was on all of us. And you may have saved lives by diverting the bomb from ground level.”

“That doesn’t take away the fact that I directly pushed the bomb into the office building.”

Steve’s response was firm. “Only by accident. Besides, the only way to prevent something like that happening again is to gain greater control over your powers. Even if you absolutely insist that you don’t want to be an Avenger anymore, we wouldn’t send you away.”

“Thank you.” She tried to imagine what she would fill her days with if she weren’t training with the team. She supposed she could earn a degree or find some work that could be done from the compound, but she had never given a thought to a life outside of vengeance or being an Avenger. 

“Anyway, you don’t have to decide right now. I’ll give you a few more days, but I expect you at training bright and early on Monday.” She nodded. He returned the gesture and left her to her solitude.

Over the next few days, she managed to avoid the whole team by sneaking out to the kitchen late at night to get food. Vision cut down his knocking to once or twice per day, leaving when she didn’t answer, but she kept finding plates of food reserved in the refrigerator. 

On Sunday night, she tentatively reached out with her powers and felt no minds in the vicinity of the hallway outside her room or the kitchen. She walked toward the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the expected plate. She’d been eating her food cold, but she took the chance of microwaving it tonight. 

When it was done, she removed the plate and reached for the drawer that contained silverware. Turning around, she was unsurprised to find Vision standing across the counter from her. “Hello, Wanda.” 

“Vizh.”

“I understand that you are joining us in training tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” She did not know what else to say, so she began eating before her food got cold. Vision remained where he was, watching her intently.

“You look unwell. Perhaps you should ask Captain Rogers for one more day of reprieve.”

A laugh forced itself from her throat, and he tilted his head in a look of pure confusion. “You aren’t supposed to say things like that so bluntly, Vizh.”

“My apologies. I did not intend to insult you, but I don’t want you to overextend yourself.”

She felt the first genuine smile since Lagos form on her face. “I know. It’s okay. Just for future reference.”

“Noted.” His face was so serious as he nodded that she wanted to laugh again, but she held back for his sake. “Do you mind if I keep you company?” She shook her head. He perched on a stool as she continued eating. They fell into a companionable silence. 

When she finished, she rinsed her plate and put it in the dishwasher. She turned to see that Vision had moved from the stool to stand in front of her. He was looking down at her with a tentative smile on his face. “May I offer you a hug?”

She nodded. He held his arms open, and she closed the distance between them, resting her head against his chest and wrapping her arms around him. He hugged her back loosely. It was one of the few times that he had held her since rescuing her from Novi Grad. It felt different from the times she curled up next to him while watching a movie. “I’m sorry I was avoiding you.”

“It’s alright. I was just worried that I did something wrong.”

She reached up to touch his cheek. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way. You didn’t do anything; I just couldn’t take people.” She felt the usual warmth coming from his mind that he experienced whenever she so easily included him in that category. She hoped that the pleased surprise would fade with time as more people accepted him. 

“Like after Pietro.” He closed his eyes as she continued to brush her thumb against the ridges in his skin.

“Yeah, like that. Thank you for the tea the other day, by the way.”

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “How did you know?”

“Well, it was made just right. Plus, you’d been knocking on my door all morning. I figured you were just biding your time to see if I would come out on my own.” He ducked his head, avoiding her eyes, but she knew that she had caught him out. She took advantage of his slightly reduced height and lifted onto her toes to replace her hand on his cheek with her lips.

His smile broadened. “I am glad to be of service.”

***

A few more weeks passed without incident. Their lives largely returned to the normal rhythm from prior to Lagos. Training continued, and he felt a new warmth when Wanda began to rejoin team activities. She still had a tendency to seek solitude more frequently than any time since the first months after her brother died.

He did his best to distract her from her troubles. He suggested new movies and books. He concocted ever stranger questions about human nature to pose to her. He enjoyed her responses, no matter how outlandish they sometimes were. He suspected that she was calibrating her answers to match his questions, which sadly was not helpful if she was not giving true answers. She smiled at him more freely at those times and he sought out new ways to make her smile appear.

One night he suggested a marathon of _Pride and Prejudice_ adaptations. He found himself drawn to Darcy’s plight. It was quite plain to Vision that Darcy was in love with Elizabeth Bennett, at least as far as the conventions of love being represented in fiction, despite his failure to convey that information to Elizabeth herself. He was comforted by the fact that Darcy still won her hand in marriage, even after many missteps. Though he trusted he would never act as coldly as Darcy did initially.

Wanda indulged him and remained tolerantly amused throughout the viewings. He hoped that he read her reaction correctly when she seemed to look at him fondly during Darcy’s proposal to Elizabeth. 

***

“I’m picking the movie tonight.”

“Of course.”

“I just can’t take another romantic comedy or romantic drama or romantic tragedy.” She nudged his shoulder.

He ducked his head, and she admired the way the light reflected off his red skin and vibranium. When he lifted his head again, she was relieved to see that he was not frowning too deeply. “Am I correct in deducing that you are teasing me?”

“Yes.”

She searched through various options and finally found something that seemed not to have any romantic subplot at all. “Let’s watch this, _Master and Commander_. [2]”

At the end of it, she turned off the television. “That was a good movie. I think I like the doctor character the best. He made a lot of good points about old rules having to change if they don’t make sense any more. And he was very brave to perform surgery on himself.” She kept the fact that she also found him handsome to herself.

Vision seemed less sure. “I agree that it was a good movie. It was well-directed, well-acted, but the conversations were troubling. The doctor did make some good points, but he freely submitted himself to military discipline when he joined the crew of the ship. It was not his place to question the captain’s legitimate orders.”

“The captain did invite him to be honest.”

“Yes, but the orders were still controlling.”

“The orders were wrong. The boy’s insolence did not merit a whipping. Especially as the ship’s doctor, he had a duty to question them.”

He frowned more deeply. “The punishment was harsh, perhaps unnecessary, but who’s to say that the acceptance of insubordination would not cause greater unintended harm, especially in a chaotic combat situation?”

Their views on movies were often fairly similar, or if they weren’t, they could agree to disagree amiably. However, she could not give way on this point. With the rumblings on the news about reining in the Avengers and requiring greater supervision, the discussion seemed all too relatable. “So, if you were the one given the order to whip the boy, you would have just complied?”

“I…” His face was more open than she usually saw. His indecision was plain. “It is difficult to say. I was not created in those times. The society that I am familiar with has changed so much that it provides different rules and standards of punishment. Certainly, if I were given the order as I am, I would find it nearly impossible to carry out the task, but perhaps it would have been easier if I came to sentience at that time.” It bothered her that he could not unequivocally say no. 

“Well, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.” His gaze on her was serious and thoughtful.

He did not speak for several moments. “I think sometimes there are no right answers.”

“I don’t know. I think preventing an unnecessary beating is always right.”

“I don’t disagree.” 

“So, say that.” He looked away from her. Though he remained very still, she could feel the tension and uncertainty building in him. She almost wanted to tell him to forget it. It was just a movie after all, and a scenario that would not occur in the real world. But she couldn’t let it go.

He looked back at her apologetically. “I need further time to think on that.” He tentatively laid his hand over hers on the bedspread. “I’m sorry if that is unsatisfactory.”

She brought her free hand to cover his. She could not fault him for his honesty. “Take all the time you need. We can discuss it another day.” He gave her a small smile, and she found herself smiling back. She was suddenly aware that they had somehow inched closer to each other throughout the course of the movie. “But I should probably go to sleep now, so I’m ready for the big team meeting tomorrow.” She pulled her top hand away, and he stood, placing his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, of course. Sleep well.”

“Have a good night.” He smiled at her one more time before phasing out of her room.

She collapsed back onto her bed. She was going to have to give more thought to what was happening between them. She fell asleep with memories they shared through the last year swirling through her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Lagos, Nigeria is 5 hours ahead of New York, but I’m not sure that we’re given any time markers for when the mission in Lagos actually occurred, so I kept it vague.
> 
> [2] I couldn’t resist because it’s a Paul Bettany movie that I recently watched and is also thematically appropriate to Civil War. The situation discussed after this point involves a young boy who gave a minor insult to a superior officer on a ship in the British Navy and was subsequently whipped, despite the doctor’s protests.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vision and Wanda's stolen moments between the end of Civil War and Infinity War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three sculptures by Auguste Rodin are referenced: The Kiss, Eternal Springtime, and The Eternal Idol. They are beautiful and worth taking a look at, but also NSFW (to be on the safe side). 
> 
> Also references the Santa Maria del Fiore cathedral in Florence and Dante’s _Divine Comedy_.

Vision’s memories of the last year filled his head and led him to sit in contemplation more than usual. He had spent the previous six months developing a schema for love alone. He felt that he was beginning to understand, though he may have missed a few essential elements. It was only at the end of this process that he came to realize that his feelings for Wanda satisfied every component of his test.

He expected his love to diminish after being forced through the floor and the fight at the airport, but that was not the case. He felt what he thought was anger for a time, at himself and the situation and even Wanda, briefly (a thing that he had not thought possible), and he believed it was the first time he had experienced such emotion. He had not felt anger when he destroyed Ultron, only the pull of necessity and the desire to protect. He could not recall any other memory that created the same twisting fire in his stomach and tightness in his chest. 

Anger was one of the few emotions that he had not discussed with Wanda. She, along with all the other Avengers, had significant experience with anger, but that experience was associated with the heart of her painful past. He did not feel right bringing it up, except when exuberance at a new thought got the better of him. Therefore, he had less of a framework to model anger than other emotions. 

There was an element of heat, certainly. There was also burrowing resentment. He thought that a sense of injustice or unfairness was also typical. Unhappiness, annoyance, and irritation were also key features. He still found it amazing that humans found so many almost-synonyms for various degrees of their feelings. He felt all of the above, but he still did not seem to be adequately describing the emotion.

However, those feelings quickly began to dissolve in the quiet of the compound. He considered the rift from her point of view, her desire to help Captain Rogers, her need to actively work to make amends. With the UN and Secretary Ross insisting on handling the cleanup of Leipzig themselves and Tony focused on Colonel Rhodes’s recovery, there was nothing to do but brood on his own mistakes and the absence of his teammates. It was not the fighting that he found himself dwelling on the most, but the better times during the previous year.

He missed the simple days filled with training and conversations and learning about humanity. Every time he read a book or watched a movie to distract himself and did not understand a character’s actions, he would go to ask Wanda what it meant before he remembered that she was no longer here.

Mr. Stark had revealed the existence of the Raft to him and Colonel Rhodes, but even he had not known the full truth of the conditions there. When he realized the extent of Wanda’s torture in the Raft, he took to monitoring it, determining its weaknesses. He did not have to work long, all things considered, before Captain Rogers broke them out. Secretary Ross’s besetting sins were wrath and pride; they combined to make him careless. He let out a rush of breath that he did not need when the Quinjet was out of the Raft’s airspace. 

***

She woke up screaming. It took her a few moments to realize where she was when she felt the soft mattress instead of cold concrete. She still expected the buzz of electricity and a painful shock. She struggled against the hand that clamped down over her mouth, but she relaxed when she recognized Natasha’s voice that was trying to soothe her. She slowly opened her eyes in the room that the four of them were sharing temporarily. 

She waited for her breathing to even out. Once Natasha realized that she had fully woken, she let go of her. “I’m sorry,” Wanda croaked.

“It’s okay. The one benefit of these types of places is that people tend to ignore unsavory sounds in the middle of the night. Do you want some water?” She nodded. She was grateful that Steve and Sam had managed to stay asleep; Natasha was much less likely to try to get her to talk out her feelings or offer meaningless comforting words. Natasha crept silently around Steve’s sleeping form on the floor on her way to the tiny kitchenette. 

Wanda accepted the glass from her. Natasha settled down next to her again. Their rundown room on the outskirts of Madrid held only a bed and a couch. The boys had insisted that she and Natasha take the bed while they alternated sleeping on the couch and the floor. When she finished the water, she set the glass on the bedside table. Natasha’s breathing was already deep and even. She lay back, but she could not return to sleep. She merely stared at the ceiling. 

She tried not to remember the nights when she would have nightmares back at the compound. More often than not Vision would be there to talk to her, distract her, and bring her tea. Sometimes they would spend hours together, and he always knew whether to encourage her to talk about her nightmares or change the subject. She tried not to think about the safety that she had felt when she fell asleep against his side, and she woke to a stack of pillows and a blanket wrapped around her.

She began to let go of her anger. When he’d first admitted that he was not letting her leave the compound, with utmost reluctance and guilt, she’d felt more surprise and hurt than anything else. Even making him crash through the floor she felt only regret that they weren’t seeing eye to eye. The anger hadn’t really come until she and the others were taken away after the airport fight and the shock collar was first fitted around her neck. She couldn’t help but place some of the blame on Vision’s shoulders. But as time passed and she healed, she came to the conclusion that he deserved the benefit of every doubt. He was responsible for his choices, but she was responsible for her hers as well.

She wondered if she would ever see him again.

***

“Against my strenuous objections, the committee has decided to send you out to hunt down this lead. Are there going to be any problems?”

“Not at all, sir,” Vision replied softly, hiding his still simmering rage under a veil of politeness.

Secretary Ross stared at them searchingly. “You’ll regret it if there are.”

Vision stared at the screen after the conference call had cut out. Mr. Stark, who was sitting in a chair in front of him, looked back and said, “Well, are you okay to do this on your own?”

“I will be fine, Mr. Stark.”

It was late evening when he landed in Berlin. The anonymous tip had suggested that a woman matching Wanda’s description had been seen in a seedier section at the edge of the city. He did not like the idea of her being so close to where she had initially been captured, but he supposed most people would expect her to move farther afield.

He thought now would be an ideal time to test his new disguise. He hoped that if there were any discrepancies anyone in the area would be too intoxicated or uninterested to notice. He walked toward the location that he had been given. He did not know how he was going to approach her.  
He was saved from that quandary when a familiar hand pulled him along, whispering fiercely, “Don’t talk.” He complied as she kept hold of his hand. It was overwhelming to be so close to her again. She drew him down a side street and stopped at an unassuming wooden door. She ushered him inside. When she turned on the lights, he could see that she was trembling slightly. 

“If you’re going to keep hunting us, you have to learn to hide your thoughts better.”

“I’m not hunting you.” He wanted nothing more than to reassure her. However, she crossed her arms protectively over her stomach and eyed him skeptically. Full honesty was the only way. “Secretary Ross did send me, but I never had any intention of turning you in.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“You can see for yourself.”

“Are you inviting me into your mind, after everything?”

“Yes, Wanda. I trust you, and I have nothing to hide from you.” She reached out her hand toward his temple, but stopped just shy of touching him. He felt her enter his mind, and he carefully left his thoughts open to her. She wandered through his mind, brushing lightly across his recollections. 

He lost track of time as she examined his memories of the immediate aftermath of her using her powers against him, the fight in Leipzig, his first discovery of their conditions in the Raft, his hacking of its security and communications systems during Captain Rogers’s rescue, his practicing a human disguise unknown to the team or the UN, and his determination that she never be confined against her will again.

She eventually pulled away from him. Her posture grew more relaxed, but her face remained closed, with a distinct frown. “Would you like to have a seat?” He nodded and sat at the small kitchen table she indicated. She sat across from him with her hands clasped together. “I am sorry again. It was wrong of me to take control of you like that. I shouldn’t have pushed you into the ground.”

“I’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about that moment. I did feel upset that you were leaving with Clint, but I felt your regret at the same time. And when I thought of my own role in your decision, I realized how easily it all might have been prevented. I should have used reasoning to ask you to stay in the compound, rather than presuming to make the decision for you. I am sorry as well.”

She nodded in what he hoped was acceptance of his apology. “I still don’t understand why you’re not afraid. There’s nothing stopping me from doing that to you again.”

“No, there’s not,” he conceded. “But I meant what I said back at the compound. Their—humans’ —fears are controlled by their amygdalas that have evolved over millions of years; they cannot help being afraid of power like that. However, I am not bound by the same structures. My neural network may contain an analogous structure and analogous hormones, but they do not control me to the same degree. I do not fear you because you did not hurt me, and I don’t think that you would do it again unless you were in dire need.”

“I wouldn’t. I promise.” She paused. “How’s Rhodey?”

“He is recovering as well as could be expected.” His neck felt like a heavy weight was pulling down his head as he stared at his hands. “However, he is not expected to regain use of his legs. Mr. Stark has fitted him with leg braces of his own design to help him walk, but it is not the same.” She took one of his hands in her own.

“It was an accident.” Her soft voice was full of concern and, he thought, understanding, but his guilt remained at the forefront of his mind.

“Yes, but it’s still my fault.” He would never be able to change that. 

She did not deny his statement, but her eyes held only sympathy. “We all made mistakes that day. We all signed up for risks.” He suspected that they would not come to agreement on that point, so he merely nodded and decided not to argue further. Wanda continued running her thumb over his hand and wrist. “You know, I was so worried about figuring out what you were doing here that I didn’t pay attention to this.” She gestured up and down toward him, presumably indicating his disguise. “It’s impressive. I can even feel the little hairs on your arm. Does it take a lot of concentration to maintain?”

“It did at first, but I have been practicing. I wanted the opportunity to find you without drawing undue attention.”

“And does anyone know that you helped Steve break us out of the Raft?” He could not fail to notice how her voice quavered at even the name of the prison.

“No, Mr. Stark told Colonel Rhodes and me about how they were treating you. He was most disturbed, but he was waylaid after his fight with Captain Rogers. I was able to bypass their firewall and access their systems. I was trying to ascertain the best way to help you when the stolen Quinjet came onto their radar. I was able to interrupt their audiovisual systems and some of the locks while Captain Rogers was subduing the guards. I thought that it would be best if the others did not know I could do that.”

“Steve was thinking the escape was too easy once he got us out.”

“And I want to apologize again. If we had had any idea what they would do to you, we never would have let them take you away.” What he really meant that _he_ himself would not have let them take her, even if he had to fight Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes as well. But he was not prepared to explain that yet.

She nodded, her expression unreadable to him and mind closed off. “I forgive you, but I need more time to forget.”

“Of course.”

“So, if you’re not going to turn me in, what are you going to tell them?”

He had planning that throughout his journey to Berlin. “I will simply say that my interviews revealed that you had already moved on by the time I arrived. Although it may be best for you to leave here in truth if you can. Secretary Ross does not fully trust us, and he may send others to verify my information.”

“I was planning on leaving soon anyway. I guess I can go a few days early.”

“Good.” He squeezed her hand, unable to think about her returning to that cell. “May I see you again?”

She stayed silent for a moment, and it was another period where he felt time freeze, though he knew that was not the case. “Yes, I would like that. Wait here.” She went into the kitchen and took out a flip phone. She came back to the table and handed it to him. “Steve got us all burner phones in case we needed to contact someone outside the team. The number to reach me is programmed into it. I’m sure this isn’t what he intended, but I’ll call you when I’m free.” He secreted the phone in a pocket in his created pants. 

“Thank you.” He wanted to stay with her, but he recognized the need for him to leave. He stood and moved toward, and she followed him. “I hope to see you soon. Take care.” He did not want to say goodbye.

“You too. Have a safe trip back. I’ll contact you as soon as I can.” He waved at her as he walked into the night.

***

Wanda fiddled with her sleeves while she waited for Vision. His train was set to arrive any minute. It had been weeks since she’d seen him. She missed him more than was probably healthy when they were apart in the months since they’d started their rendezvous. 

When he finally approached her, she was bouncing on her toes. “Hello, Wanda.” At first something seemed off about the curve of his mouth and the lines around his eyes, but his smile grew more genuine when he came up next to her. 

“Hi, Vizh. Ready for sightseeing?”

“Absolutely.”

She reached for his hand as they left the station, loving the reminder of his presence. “I was wandering around earlier. I think this city is one of my favorites. We should check out the cathedral first.”

“Florence has many cathedrals.” His smile was undeterred by her glare in his direction.

“You know which one I mean, the most famous one with the dome.”

He nodded. They walked along the path she had taken to the train station until they reached the cathedral she had passed by earlier. The whole city was stunningly beautiful, with its warm, sun-drenched atmosphere and centuries-old buildings, but the cathedral’s intricate mosaic had to be among the most glorious sights.

They spent the rest of the day touring the famous dome and a sampling of the other cathedrals that the city boasted. They also walked down to the River Arno and explored the bridges that connected the two halves of the city. At the end of the day, they sat outside at a café in the fading sunlight. They ate fresh pasta, and she sipped red wine. She encouraged him to try some of her tiramisu.

Once they checked in at the hotel room Vision had reserved, she flopped down onto the bed. The plush covers swallowed her, and it was unspeakable luxury after the usual accommodations she and the team experienced. She sat up to find him smiling at her enjoyment. “I’m exhausted.”

“We did walk almost eleven miles today.”

“That shouldn’t be too much of a challenge given how much the others still kick my butt when we train together.”

“Endurance exercise works much different muscle fibers than the hand-to-hand combat training that we typically engage in.” He was still standing in the middle of the room, an air of nervousness overtaking him. She pushed herself to her feet and joined him.

“Vizh? You okay?” He nodded, but his hands remained awkwardly tucked in his trouser pockets and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” He attempted a relaxed smile, but it wasn’t very convincing. His mind remained open to her as it usually did when they were together. However, there was a tight knot of thought in the center that was hidden from her. She didn’t push. 

“You can talk to me. And you don’t have to wear your disguise in here, unless you want to, of course.” Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure why he was still wearing it now; he usually dropped his disguise as soon as they were alone.

His expression softened and he indulged in a sigh. “I know.” He moved to sit on the couch in the corner of the room. He did let go of the disguise, and she sat next to him. He laid his hands on his knees. “Do you remember when we compared our experiences of dreaming?”

“Yeah.” It had been a fascinating conversation. She didn’t have much experience with dreams that weren’t nightmares, but when she did dream, the images were hazy and indistinct. Vision had told her that his dreams were even more rare because he rarely rested enough of his systems at one time to reach REM sleep. But when he did, everything was sharp-edged and hyperreal. The emotions were richer and clearer, and he had difficulty escaping them when he wanted to return to a waking state.

“Last night I dreamed about visiting you. In the dream, we toured the city and arrived at the hotel, much as we did today. We were conversing when I made an error.” He glanced at her and then away. He looked so uncomfortable that she wanted to reach out to him, but she sensed that that would not be welcome at this moment. “I tried to kiss you, and you told me that you could never be interested in doing such a thing with me. Then, you said that you did not want to meet any longer, and you left.”

Surprise kept her silent for a moment; then, she wondered what was taking her so long. “Vision, please look at me.” He listened to her request, allowing her to see the full extent of the doubt that lingered in his expression. She smiled at him to offer reassurance. “Does that really sound like something I’d say or do?”

He thought for a moment, and she deliberately stayed out of his head. “Well, no.”

“Do you think your own fears might have been influencing the response of dream-me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Because I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me.”

“Pardon?”

“I think you heard me perfectly well.” She inched a bit closer to him. “May I kiss you?”

“Do you truly want to?” There was growing hope in his expression, but he still looked uncertain.

“Yeah, I do.” She reached up to cradle his face between her palms. “Is this okay?” He answered by pressing his lips to hers. He tentatively rested his hands on her waist. They came together and broke apart several times in the next few minutes before she pulled back. His eyes remained closed, face calm. She couldn’t resist the urge to kiss his cheek. He opened his eyes to smile at her then. She realized that she had never truly appreciated the beauty of his eyes, with their bright blue irises and turquoise rim. 

“I would like to do that again if that’s alright.” She brought her mouth back to his.

***

Vision felt himself smile as he caught sight of Wanda at the Metro station. She practically ran to meet him, dodging around the crowds. Her own smile matched his. 

After one year, seven months, and fifteen days of meeting secretly, the sight of her after a time apart never failed to fill him with anticipation. He took her hand when they reached each other. “Wanda.”

“Vizh.”

He longed to greet her properly, but he was inhibited by the crowded conditions of the train station. They made their way into Paris. Their pre-agreed destination was the Musee Rodin. Once they reached a more open spot, he brought them to a stop for a moment, so that he could cup her face in his hands and kiss her briefly. She smiled at him. They continued walking toward the museum. He became engrossed in the displays and the often fascinating stories behind their inspiration. One story in particular resonated with him. 

His attention was arrested by a large sculpture that stood in the center of one of the display rooms. It depicted two nude figures, a man and a woman. The woman was half sitting in the man’s lap, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her marble hip almost seemed to yield slightly under his hand like real flesh. Their muscles practically rippled with motion. They seemed utterly absorbed in their embrace, and he almost expected them to start guiltily away from each other when they realized people were watching them. 

He also tried not to think about how the woman’s proportions were similar to Wanda’s and the man’s were similar to his own. His mind involuntarily filled in the white sculpture with their own coloring and features. Judging from Wanda’s choked laugh and gleeful expression, she had caught the trail of his thoughts. He hastily cleared his mind and drew her to the next sculpture. He was grateful that the synthetic skin that he conjured for his disguise did not flush. 

They continued through more rooms. Rodin, like many sculptors he understood, had an alarming fixation on the nude human form. But perhaps it was only alarming in his current state of mind. He had to agree with artists of all kinds that the human body was a beautiful combination of form and function that was worthy of extended attention. However, he was beginning to think that his temperature regulation malfunctioning. 

One notable sculpture showed a kneeling man with his hands clasped behind his back reverently kissing the stomach of the woman before him. Another showed a young man, contorted into an uncomfortable-looking position, leaning over to share a kiss with his lover as he kept one arm wrapped around her. His lover was kneeling with her back arched toward him sensually and her arms raised in abandon. It did not help that Rodin had favored the same body types in all those compositions.

Once they had made their way through the whole museum, they exited back onto the city streets. Based on his internal clock, it was dinnertime. “Are you hungry?” Some emotion that he could not read flickered in her eyes, but she shook her head. “Do you want to go to our hotel room?” She nodded. He pulled up a map and started leading them in that direction. 

Her reactions had grown quieter as they wandered through the museum. He hoped that he had not upset her with his inability to control his unruly thoughts. He focused on the fact that he could not feel any negative emotions coming from her.

He was pulled from his thoughts when Wanda said, “I noticed from the placards that a few of the sculptures were based on the same people, Paolo and Francesca. Do you know the story behind them?”

“They were Italian nobles who became characters in Dante’s _Divine Comedy_. They were both married to other powerful people, but they fell in love with each other. They engaged in an affair for ten years until Francesca’s husband discovered them in flagrante delicto and killed them. Dante portrayed them as denizens of the second level of hell, where their souls were trapped in an endless whirlpool.”

“They were still together?”

“Yes, their story inspired many works of art, and they always seem to be shown together in the afterlife. It is interesting to see how the artists view them. In some depictions they seem perfectly content to spend eternity together, even under less than ideal circumstances. However, in other versions, one or both of them look as if they repented of letting themselves get swept away in passion.”

She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and drew closer against his side. “They really caught your interest.” There was a teasing curl to her lips.

“Yes.” He wanted to match her tone, but he found that he could not escape the more melancholy turn of his thoughts. “I cannot help but see some of us in their story, although I hope we escape their ending.” 

Her confusion was evident. “How so? Neither of us is being unfaithful.”

“No, but we are hiding from and lying to our teammates.”

“Even if they found out, they wouldn’t murder us.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Clint tried to murder me.”

“You have a point there. Good thing you’re close to indestructible, then.” He smiled down at her. Somehow speaking his guilt had lightened the burden. However, her mouth fell. “You don’t regret this, do you?” She gestured between them.

“No, never. Do you?” It felt like his fate hung in the balance of her answer.

“Not for one second.”

After a while longer walking in silence, they reached the hotel and checked in. Once in their room, she leaned against him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He returned the embrace, with one hand cradling her head and the other resting between her shoulder blades. Eventually, she raised her head. Her smile was back in full force. 

She took a step back and pulled him toward the bed. She sat on the edge, patting the space next to her in invitation. He perched in the spot she indicated. While lounging together on her bed had become a common occurrence before she left the compound, something about doing so while they were completely alone in a hotel room felt wrong. He made sure to leave several inches of space between them. 

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course, Wanda. Anything.” He tilted his head toward her to indicate his attention.

“I enjoyed seeing your thoughts earlier at the museum.” At first, he couldn’t be entirely sure which thoughts she was referring to, but the smile she wore was soft and intimate, the kind that he had only seen her give to him. 

“Oh, I…my apologies…I…”

“Vizh, I did say I enjoyed seeing them.” He realized that she was still smiling and did not look at all perturbed by what she saw.

“You did.” He was unsure how to continue. It was not that the idea of greater intimacy didn’t appeal, but they had not discussed it up to this point. They kissed regularly, and sometimes he shared the bed with her. He held her close. They would often caress each other’s faces and necks. Beyond that, he had only books and movies and questionable websites on which to rely. They were not good models from what he had seen.

She was watching him intently. She reached for his hand, holding it in both of hers. “Would you be interested in copying those sculptures?” He considered her question, thought of having access to much more of her skin than usual, of embracing all of her.

“Yes.” An additional “very much so” slipped out unbidden. He began to qualify his answer, but she only smiled more widely and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“I would, too.” Her smile turned tentative. “There’s no hurry, though.”

He brought his free hand to her jaw. Her eyes fluttered close. “I have no wish to delay unless you do.”

“I don’t want to wait.” She opened her eyes and let go of his hand. “I never got around to having sex before.” Though he had never it much thought in the past, he did not find this particularly surprising. It was just another sign of her interrupted adolescence. He was also certain that the fierce protectiveness of her brother helped prevent intimacy of that sort.

“Is that a problem?” When she looked down and bit her lip, he determined that perhaps his question was not the ideal response to that piece of information. “Not that there is any reason it should be.”

She returned her gaze to his, lips quirking up slightly. “No. It just means neither of knows what we’re doing.”

“Alternatively, it means that we can learn together.” His voice rose in question, though he had meant it to be a statement.

Wanda smiled blissfully. “I like the way you think.” She drew him toward her by the collar of his shirt and they proceeded to learn a great deal from one another. 

***

Wanda reveled in the peaceful atmosphere of their hotel room. The curtains were closed against the outside world, cocooning them in their own private space. She was sitting up, with the covers in her lap. Vision lifted her hand from where it lay on the bed between them. He kissed each of her fingertips before intertwining his fingers with hers. She continued reading, and he made no attempt to interrupt her. 

He pressed their palms together. After a few minutes of resting their joined hands in his lap, he unwound their fingers. He stretched out her hand, so that it was lying palm down in his gentle grip. He traced the lines of her fingers with his other hand. He slipped his fingertips underneath the strip of fabric that wrapped around her thumb.

She glanced over at him. He was smiling down at her hand as he pulled slightly at the fabric. He looked up at her and back down bashfully. She put aside her book and turned to face him more fully.

He clasped both her hands in his, pressing their palms together again and holding them up between them. She used her grip on his hands to pull him toward her. He released her hands and slid one over her hip and cupped the other around the back of her neck. She raised her face to meet his, and he kissed her soft and slow. She wrapped her arms around him until they were pressed close together. 

Their mouths continued moving tenderly together as they sank further down the bed. Vision’s hand slipped under the hem of her top to rest on the bare skin at the small of her back. His other hand wove deeper into her hair. 

He pulled back slightly, so that he could look her directly in the eyes. She saw what he was going to say before he said it. “Wanda, I--.”

“Oh, Vizh, I nearly forgot! We’re probably doing a mission in South Africa within the next month. Maybe we could stay there for our next visit, provided everything goes smoothly.” She tried to ignore the acute disappointment that he was trying to smother. “I’m sorry I interrupted you.”

“It’s alright. I like the sound of South Africa. I’ve never been there.” He smiled at her, but the mood had shifted. Even though that had been the entire point of the interruption, she wished she could take it back.

She made to sit up to clear her head. “I’m going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

“Stay here. I’ll get it for you.” He withdrew his hands from her and left the bed, and she immediately felt colder. 

She was certain that he had been about to tell her that he loved her. She wasn’t sure why she stopped him. Maybe it was the fact that he was leaving again in a matter of hours. Maybe it would make their stolen moments into a real relationship in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She knew that she felt the same, but they had never said the words out loud. A whisper in her mind, of doubt that he could truly love her, of fear that she would lose him, held her back.

But as she watched him making tea, that all fell away. She admired the contrast of his burgundy skin against the plain white china and the graceful movements of his hands. She let the smooth flow of his thoughts and his pure devotion wash over her. Her heart felt so full that it was hard to breathe. At that moment, she vowed to try to recapture the feeling from earlier at the next available chance.

When he settled the cup in her hands, he leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Thanks.” 

“You are welcome.” He settled next to her and placed a hand on her knee. “Shall I open the curtains to see if the rain has stopped?” She nodded. “Maybe we can bring some take-away back here for dinner.”

“Sounds good.” She held onto his wrist to prevent him from standing for a minute. “And when we get back, you can pick up where you left off earlier if you want to.”

His beaming smile was much wider than usual. “I look forward to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And let’s just pretend that nothing but having dinner and confessing their undying love happened after that.

**Author's Note:**

> I was looking up the phrase "speak of the devil" to see if it would be one that might be in use in Sokovia, and I was interested to learn that the saying is "speak of the wolf" in many eastern European countries according to Wikipedia.


End file.
